Page 87 of Titus

“I like all fish,” he smiled. “And I’m starved.”

“Perfect.” I looked back at the cashier. “We’ll take the ahi burrito, three fish tacos, and two poke bowls.”

“Garlic fries?” Titus asked. “Are those any good?” He looked at me, then at the cashier.

“Dude… they are hella good,” he answered emphatically.

Titus looked at me, “Have you tried them?”

I smiled. “Of course, I have. You should try them, but get the loaded ones with Ahi and crab, and we’ll share.”

“That sounds fantastic,” he said, glancing at the kid. “You heard her,” he chuckled, probably already forgetting the order.

Titus smiled back at me. “I’m buying,” he arched an eyebrow. “You paid for the gas to get here,” he said with a wink as he slid his black Amex card onto the counter.

I returned his smile and grabbed our number placard. This was actually kind of nice. Titus was being normal, not insanely over-the-top in his flirting, and I truly appreciated this casual side of his personality.

“Be right back,” I said, setting the placard on the table. “Forgot the beer.”

“I can get that,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking.”

I softly laughed. “You’re just not used to this style of service. I got it.”

When I stepped back out, I simply shook my head at the perfection of the man. His jacket was off, draped over a chair, and his white sleeves were rolled up, looking like my definition of masculine beauty.

Titus leaned back against the harbor railing outside the restaurant, the ocean wind ruffling his dark hair as boats rocked quietly in the marina behind him. The city lights glowed gold across the water.

I handed him his beer. “Careful,” I said. “This place might permanently ruin your refined billionaire palate.”

His mouth curved slowly as he took the bottle from my hand, his fingers deliberately brushing mine. “I’m surviving somehow, preciosa.”

Most men at his level of wealth spent entire evenings performing, selling and flaunting themselves. Titus would most likely be doing that, had he not suggested I take him out to dinner to show my gratitude.

“I believe the real question,” Titus said, interrupting my distracted stare across the harbor, “is how a woman like yourself ended up entertaining me over supper in a place like this?”

“I told you,” I smiled at him, taking a sip of my beer, “I love this place.”

His eyes studied mine, more mysterious now under the patio lights that illuminated his handsome face. “No,” he said, sipping his beer as if he met up with his friends here instead of at some upscale rooftop bar that naturally catered to him.

He tipped his bottle toward me. “You know exactly how to cater to people of my…” He paused, glancing around at the patrons who would never make as much money as he did in a thousand lifetimes.

“Status?” I finished for him, taking a slower sip this time.

“Yes,” I said, his eyes searching me as if trying to unlock the secrets behind them. “So,” he loosened his tie, “why is this the place you chose to bring me?”

I watched him pull off his tie and unbutton the top two buttons of his white shirt. At this point, it was taking every ounce of discipline to keep my mouth from dropping open. Then he hit me with that damn seductive smile, and I was reminded of how dangerous it was to let this man’s outward beauty unravel me.

“Well, it wasn’t so I could watch you practically undress in front of me,” I said, chuckling after he neatly draped his tie over his jacket.

“And yet she remains unaffected by everything about me,” he smirked.

“Oh, I assure you that I’m affected,” I said, the beer gently easing my nerves, “but I’m smart about it. Listen,” I added with a touch of humor, “I’m very well aware of the type of man you are.”

He nodded.

“You just said it yourself, that I know how to cater and create environments that please all of you?”

“Yes.”